


That Hoodoo That You Do (So Well)

by triedunture



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Make Them Do It, Sex Pollen, Voodoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triedunture/pseuds/triedunture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gift from <a href="http://cerublu02.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://cerublu02.livejournal.com/"><b>cerublu02</b></a> to <a href="http://lifefiction.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://lifefiction.livejournal.com/"><b>lifefiction</b></a>. Just some silly "magic made them do it" grinding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Hoodoo That You Do (So Well)

Title: That Hoodoo That You Do (So Well)  
Author: [](http://triedunture.livejournal.com/profile)[**triedunture**](http://triedunture.livejournal.com/)  
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Castiel  
Rating: R  
Length: 2500 words  
Summary: A gift from [](http://cerublu02.livejournal.com/profile)[**cerublu02**](http://cerublu02.livejournal.com/) to [](http://lifefiction.livejournal.com/profile)[**lifefiction**](http://lifefiction.livejournal.com/). Just some silly "magic made them do it" grinding.

<><><><>

  
The dolls were only a little creepy. Mostly, they were just cute. The one with the tan coat and the necktie had shiny blue buttons for eyes. The other one had short frayed yarn for hair, a soft golden brown. Sam weighed them in his hands, laughing.

"They look just like you," he crowed, waggling the Dean doll in his brother's face.

"It was thoughtful of Madam Swale to make us these gifts," Cas said without a hint of irony. "She is skilled at dollcraft."

"Sure," Dean muttered, wrenching open the car door and throwing his brother a glare. "We finally save someone who wants to thank us and what do we get? Cash? Food? Oh, no. We get ragdolls. Useful."

Sam sat the tiny knitted Dean doll on the roof of the Impala, his voice pitched low. "I'm Dean and I'm angry about basically everything," he groused, bobbing the doll's head back and forth. He knew it was immature, but he was riding the high of a job well done, and to be honest, Dean was being enough of a pill for the both of them.

"Shut up." Dean slid into the driver's seat. "You're just pissed because she didn't make one for you, you big girl."

"And also I eat too much," Sam continued in the same low voice, walking the doll through the passenger window. "Because I'm Dean."

Cas shook his head and took his place in the backseat. "I don't think that's at all accurate. Dean doesn't make a habit of stating the obvious."

"Hey!" Dean snapped.

Sam swapped the Dean doll for the Cas one as he flopped into the passenger seat. "I'm an angel of the Lord," he rasped, dancing the doll along the dashboard. "And I have no tact whatsoever."

"I do not sound like that," Cas said, sounding very much like that.

Sam grinned and tossed the dolls on the dashboard, where they sat staring with their button eyes. They drove back to the motel, where Sam was looking forward to eating, showering, and sleeping in that order like a normal human being. But that didn't seem to be in the cards. Dean and Castiel were too busy arguing about the case they'd just solved to give Sam a moment's peace.

Cas's point was that Dean had taken too many risks during the fight with the witches, and Dean had countered with what he felt was evidence that Cas should shut the hell up. Sam dug around in one of the plastic grocery bags on the floor and couldn't even find any chips to munch on while watching the fireworks show between them.

"Guys, I'm going to go grab some food," he said as they continued shouting at each other. "Maybe take a walk." Dean and Cas were too busy getting in each other's faces to notice. "Or I'll just join the circus and become a traveling juggler," Sam muttered, but no one heard him. He closed the motel door behind him with a sigh and trudged across the parking lot.

The vending machine next to the motel office was out of granola bars, so Sam made due with a bag of Sun Chips. He ate them slowly, walking the perimeter of the asphalt. He could see the two silhouettes of Castiel and Dean in their window, and if the way Dean threw his hands in the air was any indication, they were still fighting. What a couple of idiots, Sam thought.

Sam fished his set of keys from his pocket and let himself into the Impala. The backseat wasn't big enough for him to sleep on, but if he canted one leg over the back of the passenger seat he could at least lounge in relative quiet. Better than listening to those two morons snipe at each other. He shook the last crumbs from the bottom of his chip bag into his mouth, then folded the bag into a square.

On the dashboard, the dolls stared at him with their weird little button eyes. Sam reached over and grabbed the knitted dolls, Cas in one hand, Dean in the other. If he felt the small frisson of power in his palms, he dismissed it as nothing more sinister than static cling.

God, if they could only get the hell over themselves....

"My name's Dean and I'm obviously head over heels for the angel who brought me back to life," Sam grumbled, shaking the Dean doll back and forth. In an even lower pitch, he spoke for the Cas doll, "Kiss me you fool." And Sam contented himself with smooshing their little doll faces together.

Meanwhile, back in the motel room, Castiel found himself propelled forward, crushing his mouth to Dean's in mid-sentence.

"Mmpf!" Dean screamed in a muffled way against Cas's lips. He stared at Cas's wide-blown blue eyes, millimeters away from his own. He tried to pull away but some invisible force kept them locked together. His hands scrabbled for purchase, clawing at Castiel's long coat.

When they finally pulled apart, Dean gasped, "What the fuck was that!"

Castiel blinked, dazed. "I—I'm not certain. I'm no longer in control of my body."

"Same here, I think." Dean leaned in and showered Cas's face in little kisses. "I." Smack. "Am." Smack. "Not." Smack. "Doing this!" Smack.

"Stay calm." Castiel's hands threaded in Dean's hair, cupping the back of his head for a long drink of a kiss, tongues sliding together for a brief moment. Dean let out a high-pitched noise of distress from the back of his throat. "This must be a curse of some kind," Cas said as they parted.

"You think!?" Dean's eyes bulged. He stiffened suddenly, his jaw ticking wildly. "Please tell me that's an angel sword in your pocket."

"Um." Cas pursed his lips. "That would not be entirely accurate."

"Oh my god," Dean muttered, staring pointedly at the ceiling.

"I told you, I am not in control of this body's responses!" Cas protested. He pressed close, his eyes going even wider. "Oh," he breathed.

Dean flushed, wishing he could sink through the floor. His own cock was hard too, jutting against Cas's hip. "Well, I can't control it either," he said.

"So you are not physically attracted to me?" Castiel asked.

"What? Me? No. What? That's crazy." Dean's hands moved of their own accord, touching Cas's chest through his shirt. "It's a curse, like you said."

Back in the Impala, bored and feeling antsy, Sam did what anyone with two dolls would do. He posed them in a crude position and giggled to himself.

In the motel room, Dean was pulled across the room and thrown facedown on the rickety laminated table by an invisible force. He tried to straighten but couldn't move from his place, bent over the surface. Within an instant, Cas had plastered himself across Dean's back, his hard-on digging into the crease of his ass through his jeans.

"Oh, come on!" Dean shouted. "Get the hell off of me, Cas!"

"I am trying," Cas gritted through his teeth. His hands smacked down on top of Dean's wrists, pinning him down. "This is very powerful magic." His hips rolled into Dean, rutting against him.

"Well, try harder." Dean twisted his neck to glare over his shoulder. "You know, figuratively speaking." He didn't relish the idea of this little curse reaching its inevitable conclusion. It was bad enough Cas was rubbing up on him against his will; it would be a disaster if he knew how badly Dean wanted it. Better to keep up a stream of biting sarcasm than let the angel know how he felt.

"I might be able to concentrate if you would keep quiet," Cas growled. It was bad enough he was touching Dean without his consent; it would be catastrophic if he knew how Castiel had dreamed about being with Dean. Better to weather this impossible storm than let the human know his secret desires.

"Sure, I'll just shut my trap and let myself be molested. Good to know you care, Cas," Dean said, his voice raspy and pained.

Castiel's body did not stop moving against Dean's, but he dropped his head to rest on the back of Dean's neck. He was silent for a long moment before saying, "Do you really think so little of me?"

Dean frowned and tried to look over his shoulder again. "Cas—"

"Because I do care about you, Dean," he said, small and quiet. "I care very much." His hands went to Dean's hips, dragging him back to meet his thrusts.

"Yeah, I know." Dean bit down on a moan. "I didn't mean—"

"I am sorry this is so disgusting to you," Cas continued, his words falling along the skin of Dean's neck. "You must hate this."

"Hey, whoa." Dean licked his lips, which had gone all dry. "Uh, 'disgusting' is such a strong word."

"Perhaps if you imagined some woman?" Cas gave a light lick to Dean's ear, his hips speeding up. "Would that help?"

"Not a lot of chicks have bent me over a table and humped me," Dean huffed a laugh.

"Oh. Of course." A heated flush crept up Cas's face. He stifled a gasp as the crown of his cock caught against a fold of fabric between them. "Dean, I can't—"

Dean closed his eyes, blocking out everything but the feel of Cas's body on his. "You're fine, it's okay," he murmured. He felt himself relax under the weight of Castiel, unable to resist. It felt good to be touched, to be touched by Cas. He hated to enjoy it like this, when Cas didn't have a choice, but he couldn't help it.

Back in the Impala, Sam had gotten tired of the dolls and tossed them both onto the floorboard with a sigh.

Within a blink of an eye, Dean and Cas found themselves sprawled on the motel carpet. Cas was flat on his back. Dean landed on top of him with a heavy grunt.

"Are you all right?" Castiel asked, his hands running up and down Dean's arms as if checking for injuries.

"Yeah, just a little winded." Dean's hips shifted, and he felt his erection align with Castiel's through their pants, a jolt of pleasure sending a shock through his nerves. "Oh, fuck."

Cas wanted to hold Dean close, to ground him as best he could, and when he tried to lift his arms they moved willingly, folding around Dean's shoulders. Cas blinked, watching Dean writhe above him.

"Dean," he whispered, "are you still in the curse's thrall?"

"I—" Dean swallowed. He opened his eyes and leaned down, kissing Cas for a long moment. "Yeah. Sure am," Dean lied. Because when humans want something, they lie.

Castiel considered moving out from under Dean and stopping this farce, but he convinced himself to remain quiet. The curse was forcing Dean to seek release, and it might be dangerous to deny him that, Cas reasoned. Though he knew he was also being very selfish. He lifted his hips to meet Dean's, biting his lip to fight a moan. His coat slipped off one shoulder, and Dean's fingers found his necktie, wrapping it around his fist.

"Shit, Cas, I'm going to come," Dean panted against his neck. He was harder than he'd been in years, aching on the knife's edge.

Castiel opened his legs wider, shuddering with the thought of Dean reaching his release from just rutting against him. "Yes, do it," he said. "Come with me."

Dean slid a hand under Cas's ass, raising him off the floor and grinding them together as hard as he could. It hurt—denim and zippers and the scratch and burn of it—but Cas arched his back off the carpet and cried out, and Dean's voice joined in.

"Oh god, Cas," Dean groaned, coming down from the high in fits and starts, his limbs shivering.

"Dean." Cas buried his face in the junction of Dean's neck and shoulder. He breathed in the scent of his human sweat and musk, committing it to memory. If this was to be the only time they lay together, Castiel wanted to remember it. His arms tightened around Dean at the thought. "I...still cannot move," he said.

"Yeah." Dean arranged himself on top of Cas, pillowing his head on his shoulder. "Me either."

They stayed that way for a long time, catching their breath on the floor. Dean's back started to cramp, and Cas disliked the feeling of fluid cooling in his trousers, but they didn't lift a finger. Not until the door slammed open and Sam stood above them saying, "Hey! What are you guys doing down there?"

They sprang apart, Dean nearly cracking his head on the edge of the table and Cas standing ramrod straight with his coat wrapped protectively around him, hiding any telltale stains.

"Uh," Dean managed. He and Cas stared at each other, realizing at the same time that they'd both told the same lie.

"Hoodoo curse," Cas said in a clipped tone, his eyes never leaving Dean's. "The witches we defeated today must have cast it."

"And the curse made you...hug on the floor," Sam said slowly. The silence stretched long and awkward, and Dean kept his gaze flitting about the room, looking at the lamp, the bed, the floor, anywhere but his brother and Cas.

"Fuck you, I'm taking a shower," Dean finally said, and beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

"Okay." Sam shrugged. "That was odd." He turned to Cas, who was staring off into space and running his fingertips over his pinked lips. "Cas? You okay?"

The angel looked up at Sam, eyes wide. "Yes. Fine. I must—there's work to do—heaven and—goodbye." And he disappeared with a flurry of wingbeats.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. He thought about the two little dolls in the car and how he'd left them laying in a heap. Kind of like....

Slowly, he looked down at the spot where Dean and Cas had laid on the carpet, then glanced over at the table, which was shoved up against the wall, a few feet from where it had been. Could it—? Were they—?

"Nah," he muttered, shrugging out of his jacket. "That's just nuts."

 

 

 

fin

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
